Photophobia
by MiraKera
Summary: When an assassin is tasked with killing a priestess, he stumbles into a much deeper event that will change him forever. (PriestessAssassin) (Based on the Crimson Twilight world)
1. Default Chapter

(A/N): This fic was orignially Tom Valor's idea but he's so busy with his fics that I asked him if I can handle the fic for him. He said yes so it's up to me to expand on it. Yeah, it's priestess/assassin, Tom's hated pairing. He thought up this idea to show that there were still ways to use this far too common pairing and still come out with something unique. I hope you enjoy it!_  
_

_"A sword that shines within a display case, covered with jewels and polished like a mirror is as useless to its owner as the lump of metal it was forged from. Lucky is the owner of a sword stained with the blood of enemies and covered with the notches of a hundred blows. He has a weapon that has served well and will continue to serve well. Among servants of God, the same truth applies…"_

_-High Priestess Isis-_

Photophobia

Prologue: A simple assignment

"I want her dead as quickly as possible. Bring he her head as proof and you will be paid handsomely."

The priest dropped the purse he was holding. It did not take an assassin's sharpened hearing to detect the metallic and heavy clink of coin hitting coin. Still, it was an assassin who heard it and he knew full well what the gesture meant. His client, a fat, middle-aged priest, wiped his oily hands on his robes and smiled crookedly. It was not an offer to be refused so easily.

"There are five hundred gold zenny coins in that purse. Take it as down payment; there will be another one just like it waiting for you when you finish the assignment."

The assassin shifted his sleepy stare from the plate of half-eaten pecopeco roast next to the purse to the piece of paper that contained the description and whereabouts of the target and finally to his client. He was naturally suspicious of the entire deal. Five hundred gold zenny coins…fifty thousand zenny all in all. That was just half of the promised money. A total of a hundred thousand zenny was a small fortune already. What bothered him was the target…

"This is a lot of money for the life of a lone priestess. Perhaps there are details that you are not sharing with me, Marlos Khaivan; I do not like surprises popping up during a mission."

The priest sweated profusely, a sign to the assassin, Retzel Kizue, that there were things about the assignment that he'd rather not tell. While Morroc was in the middle of a desert and was naturally hot, the nights were an entirely different matter. People did not sweat during a desert night because of heat.

"Well…there's nothing so special about her…just your average priestess who…"

The assassin turned around and walked away…

"I'm leaving. Take your money and find some other assassin to do your ecclesiastical backstabbing for you."

The priest tried to rise quickly to stop Retzel and stumbled on the table. The platter fell to the floor and broke, causing the meat to roll on the marble.

"Retzel, wait! Alright, I'll tell you…"

The assassin stopped and turned around.

"Don't bother lying, I can see right through you, Marlos. You can start by at least giving me a name and why she's scaring you to desperation."

The priest sat down and put on a subdued face, much to Retzel's annoyance. There were few things he hated more than groveling and Marlos had a face that took naturally to that task.

"Her name is Kerari Phanaea, she's an inquisitor sent by the Church to check up on me. If she finds out about my activities…"

Retzel already understood the implications. Marlos was a dutiful priest only from outside appearances. While he pretended to help the poor in Morroc, he took part in illegal slave trading and drug smuggling. Crate upon crate of awakening and verserk potions slipped past the pronteran guard because of his involvement.

"I've never heard of an inquisitor. What are they, some new profession offshoot from priests?"

Marlos shook his head and looked about nervously.

"Inquisitors are members of the Church so they could be crusaders, monks or priests. They root out corruption inside the Church and stamp them out. High-ranking inquisitors can kill offenders on the spot…"

Retzel shrugged his shoulders.

"So you want me to kill her before she kills you, correct? Fine, I'll do you dirty work for you, Marlos."

The assassin's hand swooped over the table and picked up the purse.

"Don't forget the other one…"

With those words, Retzel edged near an open window and vanished. Marlos went over the spilled food and picked up a pecopeco leg. After examining it for a while, he shrugged his shoulders and took a bite.

'A thousand gold zenny coins is a small price to pay for an inquisitor's assassination, Retzel, I'll do anything to make sure they stay off my back…'

Marlos looked out the window and smiled. The assassin he had hired was reputed to be among the best in the business. He was a freelance assassin; one of the very few who dared to ply their trade despite NightKnife's monopoly. He had an air around him that reminded the priest of a stereotypical swashbuckler; graceful, charismatic and confident. He kept his black hair carefully brushed back and at an even length, allowing it to reach only the nape of his neck. Like most morrocan assassins, he was thin and brown-skinned. He also had a slightly pointed chin, dark blue eyes and a sharp nose. His thinness exposed his cheekbones somewhat but did little to mar his physical appearance. There were rumors that he often charmed women before he killed them on their beds…

'You're going to need all the charm you can get with this woman, Retzel…'

······

In Morroc, the night was, perhaps, more busy than the day. The shadows that lay in wait in the back alleys and taverns moved freely now. It was often that an assassin, out for a mission, would meet some of his fellows on a different mission. This was where things would get complicated. If they were of rival guilds then a battle would take place. Before NightKnife took over, it often rained blood and corpses during the nights. The citizenry would find them in the morning, strewn about by the main square or on their rooftops. Right before Trynis Eviskrae's take over, the killings had escalated to war. Among the morrocan assassins and rogues, it was known as "The Night of all Knives". When the carnage had settled, more than a hundred assassins and rogues were found piled up by the center of the city. NightKnife had just destroyed all of its strongest rivals, ensuring its position as the strongest thieves' guild, not just in Morroc, but throughout Rune-Midgard.as well. Retzel moved swiftly among the shadows of the rooftops. He did not want to encounter NightKnife for this mission. Though the guild mistress, Trynis Eviskrae, was still just a thief, it was rumored that she possessed fighting abilities that could take out a careless assassin or rogue. Her "co-founder", Makaelthos Solcry, was rumored to be the same. What made them truly dangerous were their devious minds and control over squad upon squad of assassins and rogues.

'The inn of The Broken Horn…she's here…'

Retzel crouched on the roof of a nearby building. He had to plan this out carefully. Assassinating a member of the Church was always dangerous. If he got himself implicated, he'd have a squad of crusaders, monks and priests on his trail.

'A lone priestess …even if she is an inquisitor, this shouldn't prove difficult…'

The assassin leapt off the roof and into the window of his target's room. It was a sign of her inexperience in Morroc that she would leave a window open…

"Hello, there. I thought you'd never come…"

The voice surprised Retzel as soon as he landed on the balcony of the inn's upper rooms. His landing was cat-like in its silence. He wasn't heard, that was for sure. For some reason, someone was expecting him. He stood up and found himself staring at his target…

Retzel knew that his target was unusual when Marlos showed him the description. Her most prominent features were "One-eyed and a long, leather glove on her left hand". This priestess matched the description perfectly. Her right eye was covered by an eye patch. A long, vertical scar ran down the right side of her forehead, down the eye and all the way to the right side of her jaw. It was a battle scar that any warrior would have been proud of. Retzel wondered what the priestess faced to get that scar. As for her left hand…it was exactly as Marlos described it. She was wearing a single glove that reached all the way to her elbow. Her left forearm was completely covered. She had long, blonde hair that reached beyond her shoulders. Her pale skin showed her heritage as a pronteran and her hazel left eye glared with enough intensity to make up for her missing eye. Her words did not disguise the intensity behind them.

"Were you expecting a dainty, little priestess who'd be taking a bath at this hour? I suppose you'd stalk her in the bath, enjoy the view for a while and then murder her. I'm sorry if I disappoint you…"

Retzel drew his katars and raised them in a crossed position parallel to his chest. His half-lidded eyes did not reveal any trace of emotion but he was somewhat hoping for that. The eye patch marred her looks somewhat but this priestess was not completely unattractive. She had a slim figure and well-formed breasts. The sinews around her neck and right forearm showed that she was more than just physically fit.

"I was hoping for either that or a challenge, priestess. Since you're not the former, I hope you're the latter…"

The priestess did not bother replying. Instead she brought her palms together, closed her eye and began chanting a prayer. Retzel moved swiftly towards her, his katars came down swiftly towards her throat. Suddenly her eye opened. Before Retzel could even react, her left hand shot forward and grabbed his face. Retzel felt the air whoosh from his lungs as the left hand drove him to the inn's wooden floor hard. His katars reached their target nonetheless, only to bounce back before they could hit. It was as if they had hit an invisible barrier.

"Kyrie Eleison…"

The words left Retzel's lips as he grabbed the priestess's left arm and tried to break her grip on his face. His eyes widened as the arm didn't budge. The priestess pushed his head against the floor boards and began to squeeze mercilessly. The assassin struggled harder and tried to pull the arm away. It was as if the priestess's arm was a bar of solid oridecon. His skull started to throb from the pressure. The priestess was exerting enough force the break his head apart. Suddenly the grip loosened slightly…

"Did Marlos send you?"

There was no malice or even anger behind the priestess's words. She was interrogating him already…

"Why should I tell you?"

The priestess smiled and increased the pressure of her left hand's grip.

"Because I'm going to pop your head like grape if you don't, assassin. I'd rather know of your brain's contents than watch them stain this inn's floor and if you don't toss away your katars I'll do so anyway."

Retzel tossed his weapons aside and relaxed. In response, the priestess loosened her grip.

"It's unprofessional for me to reveal my employer."

The priestess's smile widened.

"Your naïve, little profession does not interest me, assassin. Still, I'll offer you a better deal. Tell me who sent you and I'll pay you double what he offered. Surely your opportunism can't pass that up?"

Retzel's eyes showed no emotion but his words showed how he felt about the entire matter. He hated that fat bastard, Marlos anyway.

"Fine, it was Marlos."

The priestess let go and stood up. She was grinning with satisfaction now. Her left hand clenched and unclenched as if waiting in anticipation for the time it would close its fingers on Marlos's head. Retzel's eyes narrowed. It was about time anyway…

Kerari Phanaea did not flinch when the assassin dove for his weapons, tumbled on the floor, pushed at the wall with his feet and sprung at her. His katars glinted in the candle light of her room as they descended on her. In response she raised her left arm and allowed the blades to strike her wrist. The katars struck true, slashing through her leather glove and to the arm beneath. Kerari raised an eyebrow as the assassin's eyes widened when he stepped back…

Retzel Kizue stared at the priestess's arm. He felt his weapons bite deep into her wrist but he had struck something solid and unyielding. For one thing, he had aimed for a vital vein in her wrist but it wasn't shedding even a drop of blood.

"What kind of magic is this?"

The priestess turned around and walked away.

"There is no need for you to know, assassin, I was going to pay you but I think I'll do that some other time. After I kill Marlos that is…"

Retzel watched the priestess leave the room before leaving through the window. He had decided to see how Marlos was going to react to this priestess. For some reason, he wanted to see more of her…

'So much for this assignment…I'll gain something from it anyway…'

(A/N): This will be my first multi-chaptered fic, wish me luck!


	2. An encounter

Photophobia

Chapter 1: An encounter

_**Before that night…**_

'Lovely sun we have today…'

There was a good reason why the priestess kept the comment to herself. She was in Morroc. No one here thought that the sun would ever be lovely. It was always too hot and too bright. The sun did nothing but make it easy for otherwise easy pickings to notice the constant thievery around them. It made people sweat until they stank to the point that people they were hiding from could sniff them out. It robbed them of energy until they became too sluggish to run. To the citizens of Morroc, the sun was an accursed, orange ball of fire that did all it could to make life miserable…

"Water."

Kerari sat by the bar and looked around her. She did not bother to see if the barkeep had heard her. Normally, water would be free in bars but this was Morroc. Nothing was ever free…

"That will be ten zenny, Miss Priestess…"

Kerari took the glass and handed over a small pile of small change. After fishing out the small, black-winged insects that floated in the water, she took as small sip and set it back down. She did not mind that the glass was cracked or that it was permanently stained by what appeared to be old blood. In the desert heat, the lukewarm water ran down her throat like the sweetest wine…

"I hope you don't mind my noticing, Miss Priestess, but that looks like a nasty scar under your eye patch…"

Kerari smiled slightly. They always noticed her eye patch and they always asked about it. The politeness was also customary. In response, she shrugged her shoulders…

"It is, isn't it?"

The barkeep, a thin, weedy man who was missing several of his yellow and broken teeth, leaned closer. Kerari's nose wrinkled reflexively. The man smelled of dried sweat and sour wine…

"Where'd you get it? I thought priests never get scars 'cause they always heal themselves."

The priestess touched her eye patch and looked at the barkeep.

"Healing can't save ruined organs. The eye was lost to any priest. I decided to keep the scar as a reminder of my carelessness as an acolyte."

The barkeep raised an eyebrow, much to Kerari's annoyance. The gesture did nothing to improve his physical appearance.

"Carelessness? Get into a fight with your swordsman?"

Kerari shook her head. The barkeep was referring to the old Church practice of pairing new acolytes with equally new swordsmen to increase their chances of surviving.

"I was already past that stage. I got it from field work…"

The barkeep frowned at this.

"Did some soldier skeleton do it to you then?"

Kerari's single eye narrowed as she recalled the incident…

"No. I had jumped to avoid a khalitzburg's swing when I realized that it had two swords…"

The barkeep's eyes widened.

"You took on a khalitzburg when you were still an acolyte?"

Kerari nodded and looked around. She was getting bored with this small talk. It was time she returned to the business at hand. The barkeep spoke again. This time there was an edge of suspicion in his voice.

"You're not drinking your water…"

The priestess's gloved, left hand suddenly shot forward, grabbing the barkeep by the wrist. The man cried out and fell to his knees quickly as she increased her grip.

"That's because you drugged it you desert-dung heap. Is that how you serve outsiders here?"

The barkeep groaned and shook his head.

"I-It was a spur of the moment thing! H-honest!"

Kerari frowned and twisted the wrist.

"You were too confident for it to be a spur of the moment thing! You were waiting for me, were you?"

The priestess twisted the wrist some more until she could feel the bone crack. The weedy barkeep howled in pain.

"Yes! Yes! I was waiting for you! Please let go of my wrist!"

Kerari stared hard at the barkeep with her lone eye. The weedy man shuddered as he looked at the single, hazel eye. The iris looked so fierce that it seemed almost yellow with malice.

"Why? Did someone pay you to drug me?"

The barkeep nodded.

"I-I can't say his name, l-lady! He'd have me killed if I did! Please let me go!"

The priestess's left hand gripped the wrist even tighter. More cracks caused the barkeep to scream. Suddenly a voice rose above the annoying wail of pain. Kerari let go of the wrist and focused on the voice's source.

"You can twist that barkeep like you would wring a wet towel, priestess, he won't yield a drop. He really doesn't know anything else."

Kerari's single eye narrowed as she looked at the swordsman who spoke. The black and purple armband he wore marked him as a member of the most influential guild in Morroc, NightKnife. The silver trimming on the armband showed that he was not only a member but a high-ranking one.

"I've heard stories that in the center of the web of assassins and rogues that is NightKnife stands a swordsman and a thief for guild leaders. You must be one of them although I'm surprised. You're quite young…"

The swordsman took a sip from the glass of Morroc wine he was drinking. The assassins and rogues in the bar gave him a wide berth. He had wavy, dark brown hair that fell softly down his neck; a few strands fell lazily over his forehead. Some delicate features on face made him look almost boyish and gentle. It was his eyes that spoke of a different side of him. Those sharp, green orbs stared at her not with the arrogance of someone who believed himself superior, or even the leering gaze of some perverted swordsmen. He was appraising her carefully and deliberately, his eyes did not flicker from their stare as he coldly calculated what she was capable of in various situations he had likely prepared.

"My name is Makaelthos Solcry, priestess. I am not a guild leader, just a high-ranking servant. I already know what you're here for…"

The priestess raised an eyebrow and let go of the barkeep's wrist.

"So I play directly into your guild's web…tell me what you want and be quick with it. I have heads to crack…"

The swordsman signaled behind him. At once, the tavern cleared of people. No one even dared to speak against be forced out. Even the barkeep had to leave…

"You're Priestess Kerari Phanaea, an inquisitor sent by the Church to investigate on Priest Marlos's activities. Prior to that, you've been sent to investigate over fifty corrupt priests and priestesses. You killed every single one of them and their associates. An overall total of fifty priests and two hundred acolytes are dead by your hands. Or should I say, hand?"

The priestess looked at her gloved left hand and clenched it.

"I never killed a single priest in my life. I killed criminals and fools. Devil-worshipping heretics in priestly robes, whores who peddle their white-robed bodies for petty cash and the right to wear the robes of a priestess, thieves, rapists, molesters…never a single priest or acolyte."

The swordsman shrugged his shoulders.

"That's not important. What matters is that you're likely to add Marlos to that list and it's in NightKnife's best interest to see him dead."

Kerari allowed herself to smile slightly.

"It looks like Marlos has associated himself with the wrong kind of people. Will you provide proof that he is corrupt?"

Makaelthos nodded.

"More than that, I've arranged for that proof to arrive by your window sill this very night. Few assassins are willing to take his jobs since he's on my guild's black list. I've had all his other options taken care off save for one. He will be your proof."

The priestess clenched and unclenched her left hand.

"And what do you stand to gain by this, Makaelthos Solcry?"

The swordsman sipped his wine again.

"NightKnife gets rid of another parasite in its territory, kills its remaining competition and shifts all the blame on the Church. When the pronteran government looks for someone to imprison for the murder of at least twenty assassins; with you in the picture, NightKnife can point to them as people Marlos hired to kill you."

Kerari's eye narrowed.

"What if I denied it?"

Makaelthos smiled slightly in amusement.

"Then you'd be lying, Marlos would have hired them to kill you if we didn't kill them first and if that happened then you would kill them anyway. We're merely speeding up the process…"

Kerari's eyebrows furrowed. She had to admit that she was impressed. Few swordsmen, or perhaps none at all, could ever plan something this in depth. It was no wonder that this Makaelthos Solcry was so feared.

"So you're using me and the Church? Why do you spare this lone assassin then?"

The swordsman's smile did not vanish.

"I think that word applies to both our sides, priestess. As for that assassin, he once commented that he enjoyed killing priestesses. My mistress would think it's amusing to see what happens to him."

Kerari stood up. She had all the information she needed…

"Thank you for speeding my job up then, Makaelthos Solcry."

The swordsman prepared to leave as well…

"NightKnife has many eyes in Morroc, priestess. Do your part and our business would be completed without hitch."

The priestess tilted her head and observed the swordsman.

"I like your way of thinking. The Church could use someone like you. Have you ever considered the path of a crusader, Makaelthos Solcry?"

The swordsman snorted and walked away.

"That would be the day I become friends with some hot-headed drunkard of a knight…Good day, priestess…"

Kerari grinned and exited the bar.

"I'll put in a good word for you then…"

Kerari headed for a nearby inn. NightKnife's involvement seemed to simplify and complicate her mission at the same time. She could probably kill Marlos by tonight if she was fast enough but she didn't like doing a thieves' guild's work for it. Perhaps she could find a way to spare the assassin, just to stick a bone down NightKnife's throat…

"As for that swordsman…he'd be her partner by now if he was a regular pronteran swordsman…"

Kerari remembered her last conversation with her student before leaving…

_"Did you meet your new partner?"_

_Kerari raised an eyebrow as her lone student looked worriedly at the swordswoman who was walking towards the barracks._

_"I have, she seems so reckless, priestess, and I think I will have a hard time keeping her alive…"_

_The priestess shrugged her shoulders and readied her things. With her single student's partnership, there was no need for her to lecture anymore. She had just been assigned on another mission by the Church. Besides, Silmeia Cafilence was an excellent student. Among a class of forty acolytes, she was the only one left after Kerari's "lessons". The Church officials considered it a lesson that Kerari actually approved of a fledgling acolyte…_

_"That means she will be perfect practice to you healing speed. Good luck, Silmeia. Perhaps we'll meet again…"_

_The acolyte nodded and smiled._

_"Thank you for everything, Priestess Kerari…"_

Kerari cleared her head of memories. Makaelthos Solcry would be a less reckless partner for Silmeia but he'd also be less practice as he's too good. Besides, his being here was likely a boon for a mission.

'So he's going to arrive by my window tonight, eh?"

Kerari clenched her left hand again in anticipation. Anyone who enjoyed killing priests deserved a little extra from her…


End file.
